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 Attu was the site of the only World War II battles fought in North America. U.S. troops were stationed on the island. Japanese troops attacked. We saw many battle relics during our visit. On the beach in front of our quarters troops had abandoned construction vehicles and equipment. These were rusty monuments. Where the tide touched, barnacles covered everything. Kelp fronds were woven into wheel spokes (this was military equipment from the 1930s). Rusty chains crawled out of the sand. We saw fox holes dug into the tundra. We found a metal box that once held radio equipment. It was bullet scarred. Back in the mountains, a long hike if we wanted to take it, was the remains of a Japanese fight plane that had crashed. There was a monument. Visitors came from Japan to pay homage.

Mike and I skipped the hike. We did our assigned chores, then went birding. My job that day was to open cans of sugar that had been stored for those two years and pound chunks into sprinkle condition.

The only vehicles on the island belonged to the Coast Guard, trucks very off limits to us. Birders walked or used bicycles. Dozens of bikes were pulled from a storage room upon arrival. All looked to have garage-sale provenance. The Attu birding trips had a hierarchy. Veterans, birders returning for the umpteenth time, had preference. They got better rooms and certainly better bicycles. Some of the primo places to look for and find birds, however, were miles away. Any bike was good.

We birded in small groups, each with an experienced Attu birder as guide. We fanned out. The guides had the radios that were spitting static into the day room where the man played cards and those birders waited for their moment. The only paved surface on the island was the runway. We walked or biked on muddy, rocky paths. You had to watch for the streams that ran down the hillsides to the sea, melt water from ice and snow in the mountains above, water you could drink. The streams cut narrowly through the tundra, channels a foot wide and four feet deep. A misstep was ugly.

To be continued.

 Killdeer often build their nests -- little more than a scrape -- in gravel or on open soil. This one chose to use wood shavings surrounding a tree trunk. Can you find the eggs? The camo is pretty good.

 Feeding in our yard today was a White-throated Sparrow with a tuft of seriously misplaced feathers. They protrude from the bird's rigth flank, like a feather duster attached to the bird's hip. Behavior of the sparrow appeared ordinary. It moved on the ground and flew without apparent problem. Did the bird have a narrow escape from a predator, a claw tearing the feathers as the bird flew? Looks like a lot of feather for that part of the body doesn't it? And the dark color seems wrong. Doesn't make much sense. The sparrow's bill appears odd because the bird was manipulating a piece of cracked corn.

 Yellow and Yellow-rumped warblers offered feeding action Saturday at a pond near our house. Those species plus Barn and Tree swallows and a lone Eastern Kingbird plucked insects from the water's surface throughout the day. I sat in dry grass beside the pond, watching and taking photos of the acrobatic performances. Palm Warblers were present in an adjoining orchard, but they chose to hunt food in the orchard grass. 

 Baltimore Orioles are being seen in the metro area. You can bring them in for a close look by offering them grape jelly. It's an early substitute for the fruit they would eat if it was available. We made our jelly feeder in about five minutes. The container once held deli olives. Two holes were drilled to accommodate the perch, an old paint brush. Trying to poke a hole with a knife is likely to shatter the plastic. This impressive feeder is attached to our deck railing with a foot of string. The perch is necessay to help keep the bird from standing in the jelly. The oriole will have no way to clean himself if it becomes a sticky mess.