Stories, sketches, and the feathered visitors that inspire life at Laura’s Garden Studio.
Earlier this summer, while sitting quietly in the garden after a morning of yard work, I experienced one of the most surprising bird encounters I’ve ever had.
A small bird landed nearby and began singing from the telephone wire overhead. Curious about its identity, I opened the Merlin app and recorded its song. I listened briefly to the identification, and the little bird answered from above.
Then, completely unexpectedly, it landed on my hand.
I think we were both startled.
After a brief look in my direction, it flew back to the wire, chattered a few final notes and disappeared.
My unexpected visitor was a Pine Siskin.
It was such a tiny encounter—probably no more than a few moments—but it stayed with me. It reminded me how much wonder can be found simply by paying attention to the birds that share our gardens and neighbourhoods.
And perhaps that is why birds continue to find their way into my artwork.
This isn't meant to be a complete guide to the backyard birds of the Kootenays. These are simply eight that I particularly enjoy—familiar visitors whose colours, personalities and habits have caught my attention.
As I've been sketching them, I've also found myself thinking about the different qualities each one brings to mind.
Black-capped Chickadee — Friendship
If I had to choose a favourite little songbird, the Black-capped Chickadee would certainly be near the top of the list.
They are cheerful, familiar companions in our yard, appearing through the seasons with their distinctive calls and seemingly endless curiosity.
There is something wonderfully companionable about a chickadee. Perhaps that is why friendship feels like just the right word for this small bird.
Blue Jay — Boldness
Blue Jays are considerably harder to overlook.
A few weeks ago, I was working in my office when I heard several jays calling outside. There were different tones mixed together, and after listening for a few minutes, curiosity finally got the better of me.
I went outside and discovered several Blue Jays gathered in one of the trees.
Talking softly, I placed a few shelled peanuts on a branch for the adults. One of the parents promptly called to the youngsters and settled on the branch in front of me—with a young bird on either side.
It lasted only a minute before all three flew to the higher branches, but for that brief moment it felt for all the world as though a very proud parent had brought the family over for an introduction.
Boldness seems an entirely appropriate quality for the Blue Jay—confident, vocal and rarely inclined to go unnoticed.
Eurasian Collared-Dove — Peace
At the other end of the personality spectrum are our Eurasian Collared-Doves.
Three regularly visit the garden, bringing a completely different feeling with them. Their soft colouring, gentle movements and familiar presence lend a sense of calm to the feeding area.
For me, they have come to represent peace—the quieter moments that unfold in a garden when there is nowhere in particular we need to be.
Northern Flicker — Groundedness
The Northern Flickers have given us some especially lovely moments this summer.
A mother and two young birds have been visiting the yard, and I've tucked peanuts into a crevice in the old backyard maple especially for Mom. She now checks her peanut spot first thing before heading over to the suet.
One afternoon I noticed one of the youngsters stretched out on an old spruce stump near the feeders. Its wings were spread wide and its body was flattened against the wood.
For one alarming instant I thought something was wrong.
Then I realized it was simply sunning itself.
From only a few feet away I could see the remarkable colour beneath its wings—one of those beautiful details that can remain completely hidden until a bird decides to reveal it.
Naturally, the moment I reached for my phone, up it sat.
I did manage one photograph before it flew away, although the spectacular wing display will have to remain one of those garden moments stored in memory rather than on my camera.
Flickers spend so much time close to the earth that groundedness seems a natural association for them.
Pine Siskin — Gentle Connection
The little Pine Siskin from the opening of this story has already earned its place here.
Siskins often arrive as part of a lively group, filling the garden with movement and chatter. Yet my most memorable encounter with one was remarkably quiet and personal.
That unexpected landing reminded me that connection with the natural world doesn't always arrive as some grand experience.
Sometimes it weighs only a few ounces and stays for a matter of seconds.
Gentle connection feels exactly right.
Spotted Towhee — Curiosity
The Spotted Towhees have been another wonderful surprise this year.
We have seen two or three around the property before, but this summer we were delighted to discover adults with young.
They've been moving through the lower level of the backyard, disappearing beneath trees and shrubs and hiding along the hedge near the feeding station before suddenly appearing again.
Watching the youngsters explore has made curiosity the word I associate with them—along with their wonderfully rich colouring, which I am particularly looking forward to capturing in paint.
European Starling — Individuality
The European Starlings haven't been around much during the past few weeks, but they still belong among the birds that regularly share our garden.
They are also one of those familiar birds that can be very easy to overlook.
Look closely, though, and they are anything but ordinary. Their dark feathers can shimmer with unexpected greens, blues and purples, and their markings change beautifully through the seasons.
They are a good reminder to look again at things we think we already know.
For the Starling, I've chosen individuality.
Dark-eyed Junco — Quiet Resilience
And finally, the understated Dark-eyed Junco.
Against some of the more colourful birds in this group, its dark hood and soft neutral colouring bring a lovely visual calm.
There is something steady and unassuming about these little birds. They don't need the flamboyance of a Flicker or the confidence of a Blue Jay to capture my attention.
Their word is quiet resilience—a gentle reminder that strength doesn't always make a great deal of noise.
Meanwhile, Back in the Garden…
Of course, the trouble with choosing only eight backyard birds is that the garden refuses to cooperate with the list.
Just as I was working on these sketches, a family of nuthatches arrived.
We've seen nuthatches here before, but this was our first summer sighting of parents with their tiny youngsters. What a delight they've been—sitting right inside the seed feeders and attempting to poke their little beaks through the cages surrounding the suet.
The babies are incredibly small.
They may not have made this particular group of eight, but I have a feeling they haven't escaped my sketchbook forever.
And neither have many of the others.
A Small Bird-Garden Ritual
With so many young birds visiting lately, the feeders and birdbaths have been especially busy.
Over one recent weekend, small songbirds seemed to be everywhere—fluttering from tree to tree, disappearing into the centre of my Quick Fire hydrangea and testing the delicate branches of the Black Lace elderberry as though searching for the perfect perch.
I keep a few decorative iron stands near the birdbaths, and it's great fun watching the birds stop for a drink, take a quick splash and then settle onto one of the perches in the sunshine.
I've also recently changed the seed mixture for the smaller songbirds, adding larger nuts and black sunflower seeds.
Apparently, the reviews are in.
It's a hit.
And after watching all that enthusiastic bathing, I'm especially pleased that I'd recently cleaned the birdbaths.
A little garden tip: I use a small amount of baking soda mixed with water as a gentle scrub for stubborn staining and algae, followed by a very thorough rinse before refilling the bath with fresh water.
More Birds to Come
These eight birds are only a beginning.
Some are year-round companions. Others appear for a season, raise their young and disappear again. A few announce themselves loudly from the treetops, while others quietly move through the shrubs beneath them.
All of them contribute something to the life of the garden.
As I continue sketching and painting this little collection, I'm finding that the birds themselves are shaping the project—through their colours, their habits and those unexpected moments that happen when I happen to be paying attention.
There will undoubtedly be more birds, more sketches and more stories to come.
After all, the garden is rarely finished introducing us to someone new. 🐦🌿
Until next time,
Laura 💖
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