The Cautious Eyes Of A Lazuli

Wishing (Always) I Was Closer

I’ve spent dozens of hours over the past few decades trying to get close to Lazuli Buntings and have gotten marginally better at it, but unlike, say, even bread dough which somehow knows when you have failed miserably enough times to finally let you succeed, rising properly to bake into a perfect loaf, Lazuli Buntings do not care a whit about your feelings or shame. Let me say that again; simple bread yeast will relent and grant your wishes sooner than a Lazuli Bunting. And I am almost certain that should I be fortunate enough to add yet another decade of careful observations and crawling about in the brush to my rickety library of Lazuli insights, these buntings will still, most of the time be giving me the slip. There is a thin, azul line, you see which few of us may pass. A line with wings and a song, a clay-colored belly and a rusty breast.

Ahab had his whale and I have mine …but with feathers of turquoise. Still seems like a pretty good deal.

Breakfasting on cheatgrass (Bromus tectorum) seeds…

Most who encounter and wish to spend time in the company of Lazuli Buntings eventually make some sort of peace with the fact that they may hear them, but will mostly, only catch occasional glimpses of them, and then from some unsatisfyingly great distance. These are not your fearless bushtits, friendly little chickadees or opportunistic camp jays. They are not like curious, chatty little hummingbirds who sometimes zip in to hover just inches away from your face while speaking entire paragraphs.

Lazulis do not seem even mildly interested in your curiosity or baby talk, or the earnest, momentary interest that gaga-prone humans might ordinarily be expected to offer them. They simply do not care how deep your desire to get closer or how much you love your Lapis Lazuli necklace or your grandmother’s turquoise ring, or how well-intentioned your hearts might be toward them. You will always be outside the circle. Own it.

Lazuli Bunting (Passerina amoena)

In the world of North American songbirds few are more calmly elusive or more preternaturally shy than the Lazuli Bunting, but few, also look more stunning atop the tallest bare branch of a standing tree, or riding a pungent, wooly sagebrush frond in the cool, morning breeze, or against a rocky, basalt outcrop in early morning light. And for my two bits, few songbirds sing more beautifully. They are easily among my understated favorites of the songbird world.

I myself have learned (by repeated trial and error), to wait, to watch …to simply plan on having them spy me looking their direction, then taunt me with just one more, exquisite riff or stanza. And while I am still shuffling my feet and just beginning to think about ducking down to hide, poof and sayonara. Bye bye birdy.

If I can’t get my camera raised, aimed and focused fast enough, well, ok, that’s on me. I have thrown away hundreds of blurry, poorly framed Lazuli Bunting images, most of them, distant little turquoise smears and indecipherable dots. Most, but not all.

This handsome fella probably did not intend for me to get so close a few weeks back, but was distracted by a loud, passing train just across the river while I sidled closer and closer, using a tree between us as cover. When I had shortened the distance more than I’d ever have thought possible, I stepped calmly out from behind the tree, train cars still clacking and squealing around the corner across the river and fired off a dozen frames before Mr. Lazuli decided that was enough. Bingo. I mean, isn’t he gorgeous!

I have also awakened a handful of times, while napping atop a picnic table in the shade of a western hackberry on a sweltering afternoon to discover a Lazuli Bunting peering down at me from just above. So, sometimes this universal sense of aloofness feels more like a control and vulnerability thing than mere shyness, to which I say, “Go right ahead. You do you. You be in charge. I’d really just like to watch you while you watch me. Or better yet, while you ignore me completely.”

What is he doing down there?

But mercy, as soon as my awakening eyes have met his (or hers), while still struggling to focus and read the moment…

Pssssttt…

off these azul buntings have flitted, without so much as a ‘so long’ peep. And I tell myself I’m ok with that. It’s just easier that way.

female. “Buh-bye!”

male. "Au revoir"

How magical it can be, to have your ass handed to you, again and again by a little, blue songbird with a big voice and eagle eyes, who finds ways to outsmart you and tell you, again and again that he’s just not that into you.

Trust me, it’s a gift. You feel your heart race. You smile. You take the win.

Berries for breakfast

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For those who’d like to read and learn a little more, here’s another Lazuli tale, this one very sweet, posted up here on my Substack a couple of summers back.

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