Eric Gofreed
Well-Known Member
It’s Winged Wednesday, where feathers, flutters, and flight steal the show! Whether they’re zipping, swooping, sunbathing, or just striking a sassy pose, we want to see your favorite winged wonders. Birds, bugs, bats, or butterflies—if it’s got wings, it’s fair game.
This week, I’m showcasing the smallest to the largest birds in North America—great and small, ground-skimming and sky-soaring. From the spark-sized Calliope to the shadow-casting Condor, these five feathered fliers span the full spectrum of size and spectacle. Turns out, no matter how many grams or pounds they bring to the perch, birds deliver drama—and dignity.
The Diva in Miniature
The Calliope is the smallest bird in North America—just 3 inches long and weighing about 2.5 grams (roughly the size and weight of a tortilla chip, but faster and less edible).
Too small to perch on the feeder and too polite to pick a fight, this female darted in for red yucca nectar, then zipped off before the bigger hummers could notice. Built for subtlety, not showdowns.
I haven’t seen a male since 2014—just the occasional female or juvenile visit my yard, during migration. She’s tortilla-chip tiny—but smart enough to avoid bullies.
American Robin: The Middle Manager of Nature
The American Robin is the bird equivalent of khakis—functional, familiar, and rarely exciting, but always around. About 10 inches long and weighing just under 3 ounces, it's your dependable backyard bird with surprising skills. Robins tilt their heads like they’re listening to a podcast, but they’re actually hunting worms—tuned in to faint sounds and watching for tiny shifts in soil and vegetation.
Red-tailed Hawk: The Highway Patrol of the Sky
At about 19 inches long with a 4-foot wingspan, the Red-tailed Hawk is one of North America’s most common raptors. I shot this from my mobile blind (also known as my car). He banked so close I couldn’t even fit the wings in the frame.
Wild Turkey (Hen): The Feathered Fugitive
Wild Turkeys are built like poultry tanks, powered by legs and a brain that runs mostly on suspicion. At nearly 3 feet long and weighing about 8 pounds, this hen wasn’t about to stick around for a portrait. She saw me raise my camera and bolted across the road. Turkeys can run up to 20 miles an hour and fly in short bursts.
California Condor That Almost Took My Hat
Wingspan: nearly 10 feet. Weight: twenty-something pounds. I was standing on Navajo Bridge when one glided past so close I felt the wind off its wings.
This wasn’t birdwatching. It was a reckoning. Condors don’t flap—they surf thermals like ancient ghosts, scanning the land as if deciding whether to spare it.
Biologists have reintroduced them/ They are tagged and tracked. This one was #10. I removed the number in the photo so he could look wild again.
Epilogue: From Spark to Shadow
From the Calliope’s blur to the Condor’s glide, size doesn’t define wonder—only the scale of it. The smallest birds flit like secrets. The largest drift like omens.
But whether they weigh two grams or twenty pounds, they all remind us to look up—and sometimes, duck.
This week, I’m showcasing the smallest to the largest birds in North America—great and small, ground-skimming and sky-soaring. From the spark-sized Calliope to the shadow-casting Condor, these five feathered fliers span the full spectrum of size and spectacle. Turns out, no matter how many grams or pounds they bring to the perch, birds deliver drama—and dignity.
The Diva in Miniature
The Calliope is the smallest bird in North America—just 3 inches long and weighing about 2.5 grams (roughly the size and weight of a tortilla chip, but faster and less edible).
Too small to perch on the feeder and too polite to pick a fight, this female darted in for red yucca nectar, then zipped off before the bigger hummers could notice. Built for subtlety, not showdowns.
I haven’t seen a male since 2014—just the occasional female or juvenile visit my yard, during migration. She’s tortilla-chip tiny—but smart enough to avoid bullies.
American Robin: The Middle Manager of Nature
The American Robin is the bird equivalent of khakis—functional, familiar, and rarely exciting, but always around. About 10 inches long and weighing just under 3 ounces, it's your dependable backyard bird with surprising skills. Robins tilt their heads like they’re listening to a podcast, but they’re actually hunting worms—tuned in to faint sounds and watching for tiny shifts in soil and vegetation.
Red-tailed Hawk: The Highway Patrol of the Sky
At about 19 inches long with a 4-foot wingspan, the Red-tailed Hawk is one of North America’s most common raptors. I shot this from my mobile blind (also known as my car). He banked so close I couldn’t even fit the wings in the frame.
Wild Turkey (Hen): The Feathered Fugitive
Wild Turkeys are built like poultry tanks, powered by legs and a brain that runs mostly on suspicion. At nearly 3 feet long and weighing about 8 pounds, this hen wasn’t about to stick around for a portrait. She saw me raise my camera and bolted across the road. Turkeys can run up to 20 miles an hour and fly in short bursts.
California Condor That Almost Took My Hat
Wingspan: nearly 10 feet. Weight: twenty-something pounds. I was standing on Navajo Bridge when one glided past so close I felt the wind off its wings.
This wasn’t birdwatching. It was a reckoning. Condors don’t flap—they surf thermals like ancient ghosts, scanning the land as if deciding whether to spare it.
Biologists have reintroduced them/ They are tagged and tracked. This one was #10. I removed the number in the photo so he could look wild again.
Epilogue: From Spark to Shadow
From the Calliope’s blur to the Condor’s glide, size doesn’t define wonder—only the scale of it. The smallest birds flit like secrets. The largest drift like omens.
But whether they weigh two grams or twenty pounds, they all remind us to look up—and sometimes, duck.
