Brownie and Other Wild Birds

(Photo by Dawn Pisturino. Copyright 2023 Dawn Pisturino. All Rights Reserved.)

This little fellow freezing his tail off in 26-degree weather is Brownie, a curve-billed Arizona thrasher. He’s cold and hungry, waiting for his meatball. Yeah, you heard me right. Brownie likes meatballs, and when he shows up looking for food, he gets one-half of a mini meatball. He grabs it with his bill and carries it away, sometimes with a smaller thrasher hot on his trail. Sometimes the smaller bird gets it, and Brownie has to do without. When the two had a baby bird during the summer, the baby would run up to Brownie, shake his feathers, and shriek like a maniac. He would keep doing this until Brownie fed him. It was one of the funniest things I have ever seen. Before the rains came, though, he was getting very aggressive with the other birds. I watched him viciously attack a sparrow who was encroaching on his territory after I put out birdseed. He held him down with his claw and pecked him, while the poor bird was screeching for dear life. Thankfully, the little sparrow managed to get away.

Back East, where there’s plenty of water and vegetation, birds thrill us with their birdsong, beauty, and peaceful demeanor. They are equally beautiful and melodic in the Arizona desert, but drought and sparse vegetation can make them competitive and aggressive. They begin to prey on one another. We ended up with no baby doves last summer because predators kept attacking the nests. My husband and I were heartbroken.

Buddy is a dove that hangs out on our property. In 2014, he was attacked by a hawk and managed to get away. But he had a huge gash in his breast and had difficulty flying. There was nothing we could do to help him so he hung out under an oleander bush, and we made sure he had plenty of food and water. Miraculously, he survived. His feathers grew back in, leaving a big black mark where his wound had been. But we can always identify him as our little “Buddy,” and he almost always shows up for feeding time. When he doesn’t show up, I worry myself sick that something happened to him. But he’s strong and healthy and gets right in there with the other birds and seems to get plenty to eat. He had to learn to be assertive to survive.

I’ve never been able to get a good photo of Buddy. I was already outside with the camera taking pictures of the snow on the mountains when Brownie showed up. He very politely posed for me!

Dawn Pisturino

February 17, 2023

Copyright 2023 Dawn Pisturino. All Rights Reserved.

I HATE SNAKES – A Poem

(Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash)

I HATE SNAKES

by Dawn Pisturino

Don’t go into the swamp!

But we ignored them,

For we were great explorers,

Hunting for lost civilizations

And buried treasure

In the deepest jungles of Africa.

We plowed through the snake grass,

Climbed over rotting tree trunks,

Hung from wild grape vines,

Chattering like monkeys.

And we never considered the dangers

Lurking in our “jungle.”

The old summerhouse lay hidden

Among tangled green bushes

And thorn-studded berry brambles,

Overlooking the banks of the St. Joseph River.

I pushed open the creaky door to look inside

And froze in shock at what I saw:

Slithering, crawling, scaly snakes

Formed a moving carpet on the floor,

Entwining in an intimate embrace,

Lying together in a clump of shimmering bodies,

Moving slowly and surely in the rotten shadows.

We beat a hasty retreat

And never visited our “jungle” again.

And that’s why, even today,

I HATE SNAKES!

Published in Hidden in Childhood: A Poetry Anthology (2023), available on Amazon.com.

~

Dawn Pisturino

February 6, 2023

Copyright 2023 Dawn Pisturino. All Rights Reserved.

Co-Author, #1 Amazon Bestseller, Hidden in Childhood: A Poetry Anthology (2023)

Co-Author, 2023 Arizona Literary Magazine (2022)

Co-Author, #1 Amazon Bestseller, Wounds I Healed: The Poetry of Strong Women (2022)

Rain – A Poem

(Photo by Ryoji Iwata on Unsplash)

Rain

by Dawn Pisturino

Drizzling rain

On the windowpane

Calms my stormy brain,

Bringing sunshine again.

~

My husband and I have both been going stir crazy with the gloomy, rainy weather. Plus, it’s freezing cold!

We welcome the sunshine!

Dawn Pisturino

January 20, 2023

Copyright 2023 Dawn Pisturino. All Rights Reserved.

Poetry Book Reviews: Jeff Flesch and Ingrid Wilson

(Photo by Digital Content Writers India on Unsplash)

Today, I’m continuing with more Poetry Book Reviews.

Nature Speaks of Love and Sorrow by Jeff Flesch (2022). Available on Amazon.com.

In his newly-published collection of poems, Jeff teaches us how the human heart, mind, and soul are intimately connected with the natural order. All the pain, sorrow, and happiness which are part of the human experience can be offset and complemented by the awe-inspiring beauty and wonder of nature. WE ARE ONE with the natural world, and Jeff expresses this beautifully through his poetic vision:

“pausing to breathe

fireflies come in a whisper, a wide grin

cascades over the clouds, revealing

the stars’ hearts.”

Jeff is a regular contributor to MasticadoresIndia, MasticadoresUSA, and Spillwords Press.

Website: www.jeffflesch.com

40 Poems at 40 by Ingrid Wilson (2022). Available on Amazon.com.

In this collection of poems commemorating Ingrid’s fortieth birthday, we are given a glimpse into the mind, heart, and soul of an incredibly talented and articulate poet. Ingrid contemplates the misgivings and successes of her own life in astounding verses that speak to the minds, hearts, and souls of her readers. Her honest examination of herself and her world can be summed up here:

“As my own treasure house is my own soul

I have fought long, I have fought hard to keep it

and in self-keeping, still my dreams are whole.

I have fought long, I have fought hard to keep it

you cannot have it now, e’en if you would:

it’s my reward, and only I shall reap it.”

Ingrid has her own publishing business now, the fulfillment of a lifelong dream.

Website: www.experimentsinfiction.com

~

Dawn Pisturino

Copyright 2022 Dawn Pisturino. All Rights Reserved.

“Nature’s Child” Wins Honorable Mention

Dear Friends,

I’m pleased to announce that my poem, Nature’s Child, won an Honorable Mention in the Arizona Authors Association 2022 Literary Contest. It has been published in the 2023 Arizona Literary Magazine, which can be purchased on Amazon.com. I don’t normally enter contests, so I’m pleased with it!

Nature’s Child

by Dawn Pisturino

She overflowed with poetry and music and laughter,

Spilling the boundaries of her life

With delicious rivulets of innocence and joy.

She danced — naked! — in the pure white light of a waxing moon

On a soft, sultry night at the Summer Solstice

And sang to the icicle stars in the middle of winter.

Her nakedness gleamed in moonlight and candle-light,

Sunlight and lamplight,

But she feared not the shadows or the darkness of night.

They called her witch, priestess, sorceress of the Devil.

She laughed at their ignorance —

These holy men of the Church —

And covered her nakedness with rose petals and fern.

Green ivy adorned her wavy red hair —

Long strands of vine cut from ancient oak —

And, in time, she began to resemble the earth itself.

Green moss sprouted between her virgin legs

And beneath her hollow armpits.

Her toenails twisted and curled at the ends of her feet

Like earthbound roots sunk deep into the soil.

Her arms opened wide beneath the golden sun,

Offering prayers and sacrifice to the deity of Life.

She gathered all the richness of sun and rain,

Exulting in the wild green world of her existence.

She withered with the passing years,

As her limbs grew gnarled and bare,

And the birds no longer nested in her hair,

Until hunters from the village

Found her standing on the banks of a gushing stream

And bowed down to worship Nature’s Child.

~

Thanks for stopping by!

Dawn Pisturino

May 31, 2022; November 14, 2022

Copyright 2022 Dawn Pisturino. All Rights Reserved.

October Sunrise

(Photo by Dawn Pisturino. Copyright 2022 Dawn Pisturino. All Rights Reserved.)

October Sunrise

by Dawn Pisturino

Orange cotton candy balls

Burst across the sky,

Playing peek-a-boo with Mr. Sun,

Slowly rising from his slumber,

A comical clown dressed in lemon yellow.

~

Dawn Pisturino

October 26, 2022

Copyright 2022 Dawn Pisturino. All Rights Reserved.

Birdie, Birdie – A Poem

(Baltimore Oriole)

Birdie, birdie in the tree,

Are you lonely just like me?

Rise into the morning sky

And fly, birdie, fly!

Tired of the verdant bough,

Hanging low with apples now?

Look, the yellow sun is high.

Fly, birdie, fly!

I wish I could fly like you,

Sing a song or maybe two,

Flutter softly my good-bye,

And fly, birdie, fly!

When the moon began to rise,

I would leave the darkened skies,

Fold my wings where I would lie,

And die, birdie, die.

Up to heaven I would go,

White and pure as new-made snow,

Safe beneath the father’s eye:

Fly, birdie, fly!

All the world would miss my song,

Sweet and pure and not too long,

Partly triumph, partly sigh;

Fly, birdie, fly!

1985

Dawn Pisturino

June 9, 2022

Copyright 1985-2022 Dawn Pisturino. All Rights Reserved.

Reprise: A Butterfly Birthday

(Monarch butterfly)

[Note: I turned this into a children’s story, but this actually happened to me one summer when I was small. It’s an experience I never forgot.]

~

Amy leaned over and smelled the sweet, honey-like fragrance of the tiny white flowers on a leafy green bush. It was spring — her most favorite time of year — and the big backyard was alive with blooming flowers, buzzing bees, and orange-and-black butterflies playing among the wild dandelions growing in the grass.

The butterflies were called monarchs, and Amy looked forward to their arrival every spring.

As she peered deeper into the bush, Amy spied a small green object hanging from a slender brown twig. She reached into the bush and broke off the little twig. She held the object gently in her hand, admiring the delicate green color. Near the top was a hard ridge tinted with yellow that seemed to sparkle like gold in the warm spring sunlight.

Amy had found a butterfly chrysalis. Some people call them cocoons. They are also called pupas.

Amy had learned a lot about butterflies from her teacher at school. She knew that female butterflies lay their eggs on the underside of plant leaves. After a few days small caterpillars, called larvae, eat their way out of the eggs. They finish eating the eggshells — their very first meal! After that, they attach themselves to a leaf and eat and eat and eat until they become too big for their skin. They shed their old skin, a process called molting, and then gobble it up to get important nutrients. Mmm — delicious!

Caterpillars continue to eat and grow and shed their skin until they have done this four times. Now, they are about 2 inches long. But they still have a long way to go before they turn into beautiful butterflies.

The caterpillars take long walks in search of the perfect place to rest. When they find it, they weave a sticky, silky attachment called a silk button. This allows the caterpillars to hang upside down and begin a process called metamorphosis.

For the last time, the caterpillars shed their skin and emerge as a small, oval object called a pupa, chrysalis, or cocoon. This is the third stage in the butterfly life cycle.

Amy realized what a precious treasure she held in her hand. She gathered a handful of grass and leaves and covered the bottom of a large glass jar. She carefully laid the little green cocoon to rest in the soft little nest. Then she punched air holes in the lid with a nail and screwed it on top of the jar.

She placed the jar on a table next to her bed, where the warm spring sunshine would shine through the bedroom window and warm the little green cocoon.

Every day, she looked at the little cocoon in the jar, and waited. Amy knew that the caterpillar’s body inside the chrysalis would dissolve into a liquid and the cells of the adult butterfly begin to grow. The little cocoon became more and more transparent as the immature cells developed into a full-fledged butterfly. Pretty soon, she could see the orange-and-black wings of an adult monarch inside the chrysalis.

One morning, Amy woke up and glanced at the big glass jar next to her bed. But something was different. The little cocoon was broken and empty. Sitting next to it was a brand new orange-and-black butterfly with white markings on its wings. It was the most beautiful monarch butterfly she had ever seen.

The butterfly sat on a dry leaf, slowly moving its wings up and down. Amy watched in fascination, amazed by the miracle of nature she had witnessed in the big glass jar.

But the glass jar was no place to keep such a delicate and fragile creature. She took the jar outside, unscrewed the lid, and watched the beautiful butterfly flutter away.

Dawn Pisturino

June 8, 2022

Copyright 2008-2022 Dawn Pisturino. All Rights Reserved.

Reprise: Butterfly Travels

(Monarch Butterfly)

Cymbals crash. Drums roll. In Pacific Grove, California, hundreds of school children, sporting orange-and-black butterfly wings, participate in the annual Butterfly Parade.

The parade is held every October to celebrate the arrival of thousands of monarch butterflies to the Monarch Grove Sanctuary. The monarchs spend the winter here, clustered onto Monterey pines and eucalyptus trees. They enjoy the moderate temperatures and misty fogs of the California coast. In February, when temperatures rise, the monarchs return home again.

Why do monarchs leave home in autumn? How do they know where to go? And how do they find their way back home again in spring?

When temperatures drop in the eastern part of the United States, monarch butterflies travel south, to the warmer climates of Florida and Mexico. Monarchs living in the West migrate to the coast of California. The butterflies need warm temperatures in order to fly. Otherwise, they will die.

Monarchs travel together in large groups for long distances. There can be as many as 1,000 butterflies in a group.

During the day, they can fly 12 miles an hour, up to 100 miles a day. Even though their wingspan is only 3 1/2 inches wide, monarchs can soar up, up into the air, as high as 2,000 feet. At night, tiny claws on their feet help them to cluster together in tree branches. They sleep until morning then start their travels all over again.

Scientists estimate that 100,000 monarch butterflies migrate every year. Some travel 4,000 miles to reach a nature reserve in the mountains of Mexico. In Santa Cruz, California, a monarch flag is hung when the first orange-and-black clusters appear. Six months later, the flag is taken down. Pacific Grove, California calls itself “Butterfly Town, USA.” Tourists flock to the city every year to get a glimpse of their colorful visitors.

Every year, volunteers from the Monarch Project tag thousands of monarchs in order to track how fast and how far the butterflies can fly. The tags are number coded and attached to the hind wings of the butterflies. When someone finds a monarch wearing a tag, the number code, date, and location are recorded.

Monarch Watch and Journey North recruit volunteers to record when and where the first monarch butterflies are spotted every year in autumn and spring.

When spring comes, the monarchs begin the long journey home. Along the way, they mate and lay eggs on milkweed plants. Butterflies that hatch in spring and early summer live two to six weeks. Butterflies born in late summer live eight to nine months because they are the ones that will migrate to warmer climates when autumn comes.

Scientists are still studying how monarch butterflies migrate to distant places and find their way home again. Are they sensitive to the earth’s magnetic field? Are they influenced by the angle of the sun’s rays? Do they follow geographical landmarks such as lakes and rivers? Does some genetic code in their bodies prompt them to return to the same location generation after generation?

Nobody knows. But people who love butterflies welcome the delicate orange-and-black monarchs to their towns every autumn and spring.

Dawn Pisturino

June 7, 2022

Copyright 2013-2022 Dawn Pisturino. All Rights Reserved.

Apology: Butterfly, Butterfly – A Poem

(Monarch butterflies)

[NOTE: I apologize for the confusion. I totally messed up this post when I originally wrote it. I accidentally published it when I was saving it for another day, then removed it. Then, when I restored it this morning, it popped up for June 1st instead of today. I was going to let it go, but it kept bugging me, so I re-did the post so I wouldn’t obsess over my mistake all day. That’s not OCD, right?]

by Dawn Pisturino

For my daughter, Ariel

Butterfly, Butterfly,

Dappled with red,

Night-time is coming,

Fly home to your bed!

The white moon is rising,

He hasn’t a care;

The bright stars are shining,

Reflecting him there.

Oh, Butterfly, Butterfly,

What shall you do?

If darkness enfolds you,

How will you get through?

Fly home on a moonbeam,

Guided by stars,

Or maybe such planets

As Venus and Mars?

Or, drifting along on a

Sweet summer breeze,

You’ll land where you want

And do as you please?

Float down on a flower,

The sweet nectar there,

Drawing you inward

And filling the air?

You’ll suck up your supper,

Then lay down to sleep,

Your wings folded neatly,

Their beauty to keep.

And when, in the morning,

You suddenly wake,

The sun will be rising,

A new day will break.

Then, Butterfly, Butterfly,

Fly away home!

Or follow your instincts

To wander and roam.

But come again – do! –

If you happen this way,

Night-time or daytime

Or any old day!

February 8, 1986

This poem was set to music by composer and film maker Barry Gremillion and recorded in October 2013 by Barry Gremillion and Ariel Pisturino. It was uploaded onto SoundCloud.

Thanks, Ariel and Barry!

(CD cover)

Thanks for stopping by and visiting!

Dawn Pisturino

June 6, 2022

Copyright 1986-2022 Dawn Pisturino. All Rights Reserved.