Wordless Wednesday: On guard

Still here

I've had the sense recently that our winter birds seem to be staying with us longer this year than in the past. So, to check my memory, I looked back at my previous years' records on eBird to see what they showed. As often happens, I found that my memory was somewhat faulty.

My records show that my latest sighting of American Goldfinches in my yard was on April 9, 2011, so the fact that I still have some in my yard here at the first of April is not that unusual. But there do seem to be more of the birds that are making the transition to their spring feathers in my yard. Usually, we only see them in their gray-green winter clothes, but this year bright yellow and black birds are common in the yard.

This male American Goldfinch, in my yard over the weekend,  has changed about halfway into his spring clothes.

My latest yard sighting of Pine Siskins was on April 27, 2011, so they could potentially still be hanging around for another month.

The siskins are still the most numerous bird species in my yard and at my feeders as they were for most of the winter.

Now, I only have one year's previous experience with Rufous Hummingbirds, but last year, my first year to host the birds during the winter, they were last seen in my yard on March 27. So, already, they have stayed longer than their previous record and they are now outnumbered daily by the Ruby-throated Hummingbirds passing through. And still they linger.

There are plenty of blossoms for the birds to sip from now, but this little guy still likes to visit the feeder throughout the day.

On the other hand, our winter warblers do seem to have fled my yard and my Red-breasted Nuthatches are long gone, though other birders in the area have reported them throughout March. The season is definitely in transition. Who will be next to show up?

New visitors

There are new voices in the backyard this week. Yesterday, I heard my first Orchard Oriole of the year, always a welcome sound.

Also, yesterday there were a pair of Barn Swallows circling over my yard. I usually don't get these beautiful swallows except as passers-through, but how delighted I would be if this pair should find a spot to nest in my yard.

The neighborhood Purple Martins have been very active in my skies also this week. I counted seven swooping around after insects late in the afternoon yesterday. I always feel a pang of guilt when I see them over my yard because my martin house has been taken down and stored away because of the plague of House Sparrows that we have. But evidently they find sufficient places to nest here, and for that I am grateful.

I could not tell you how many hummingbirds I have in my yard at the moment. There are at least two Rufous hummers still here, but more Ruby-throat males come through every day and it is almost impossible to say how many are here at any given time. I haven't seen any females yet.

Plenty of winter visitors are still here, too. The Pine Siskins have reduced their numbers over the past week, but I still have a sizable flock visiting my feeders every day. Moreover, every day now I also see some of their cousins, the American Goldfinches, as birds that have wintered farther south drift my way on their route north.

Tuesday afternoon, late, as I was watching the platform feeder in my backyard, I became aware that I was seeing three kinds of finches at the feeder at the same time. In addition to a goldfinch and a siskin, there was a beautiful and very colorful male House Finch feeding there. It was a wonderful moment.

I still have White-throated and Chipping Sparrows, Ruby-crowned Kinglets, Yellow-rumped Warblers, and now they've been joined by (Sigh) Brown-headed Cowbirds. Yesterday, too, I thought I heard a Blue-gray Gnatcatcher, but I never could be really sure.

It is an exciting time. The cast of characters changes almost daily. Who will arrive tomorrow?

The Ruby-throats arrive!

While working in my backyard today, I saw my first Ruby-throated Hummingbird of the year, an adult male.

Typically, the adult males are the first to arrive in the spring and they seldom hang around for more than a few days. Then they are on the move again, headed farther north to their breeding grounds. Later the females and young birds will arrive and, if we are lucky as we have been in recent years, one of those females will choose to stay with us through the summer and raise her family here.

But, for now, at least one adult male Ruby-throat has arrived, much to the consternation of the adult female Rufous who is still in the yard. There have already been some furious chases today!

The young male Rufous that spent the winter here may have moved on. I haven't actually seen him for a few days now. I would expect the adult female to head northwest soon, also. But there will still be plenty of hummingbird activity in the yard for weeks to come, now that the Ruby-throats are passing through.

It's spooky out here!

The quiet in my yard these days is eerie and a little unnerving. All of a sudden, the birds seem to have disappeared. Oh, there are a few here and there but not the large numbers that I'm used to seeing during most of the year.

I've had these episodes before, but they always surprise me when they happen. One day the yard is filled with birds and birdsong; the next day everything is quiet and still.

I've blamed a lot of it on the Cooper's Hawk that seems ever-present these days and I'm sure that does have something to do with it, but I think there is something more at work here. It's possible that a wild source of food has suddenly become available and attracted some of those birds that usually feed here. It may also be that this is the time of dispersal for the young birds that were hatched this year. Perhaps they are moving on to find territories of their own. I think this may be what's happening in the case of the Northern Cardinals.

Throughout most of the year, my yard is overrun with cardinals. It's not unusual to see 15 to 20 of the birds gathering around the feeder at the end of the day for their late afternoon snack. But lately the tally runs more to three or four. The birds have completed their molting by now and they are dressed in their winter/spring finery, so perhaps, now that they are adults, it was time for them to move on.

Another factor may be changes in the weather. We get fronts through here every few days now and the change in temperature, humidity, and the barometric pressure may well be a signal to some of the birds - hummers, for example - to move on.

But whatever the reasons may be, my backyard is a relatively quiet place these days. Spooky - like Nature is playing a Halloween trick on me.

The migration and the molt continue

What a difference a week makes. Last week I told you about the extreme hummingbird activity that was dominating my backyard. You could hardly step outside without having two or three hummers zip by in front of your face. We had both Rufous and Ruby-throated Hummingbirds and they put on quite a show for us.

Well, things are different this week. Much quieter. Last week's wave of hummers has passed on through. This week I've only noticed two of the tiny birds in the backyard - one female and one male Ruby-throated Hummingbird.

Here's the female sitting on one of her favorite observation perches where she is able to keep an eye on the entire backyard and especially her favorite Hamelia bush and sugar water feeder.

There may be - likely are - other hummers around, but I've only seen these two at the same time and can confirm their presence. Tomorrow, though, may be different as the migration continues and the cast of characters changes daily.

*~*~*~*

Though the hummingbird activity has slowed down, there are still plenty of birds and plenty of action in the yard, but it is mostly the permanent resident birds that dominate the scene.

At the front yard feeder, the House Finches continue to be omnipresent. There are at least a half-dozen that visit the feeder daily.

This old feeder has served the birds - and squirrels! - in my yard for many years and it is showing its age and slowly falling apart. I have ordered a new feeder which should be delivered in a few days and a squirrel baffle! This will be a shock to my little furry friends who have always considered this their feeder. But never fear - I've also purchased a couple of squirrel feeders with which I hope to placate their hurt feelings.

All around the yard, the summer molt is continuing and the birds are looking really scraggly. I haven't yet seen any bald-headed cardinals or jays as we have in some years, but there are several more weeks of molt to go.

Though not bald, this Blue Jay is certainly showing signs of the molt.

The rattiest-looking birds though are the Common Grackles which continue to surprise me by showing up in my yard in big numbers.

This young one looks pretty unkempt with his missing feathers. (No, he's not "singing," he's panting.)

This one might be a tiny bit further along, but he's still missing feathers, too.

The only birds that I see in the yard that are not showing visible signs of the molt are the Mourning and White-winged Doves.

This White-wing was busily preening its feathers...

...making sure...

...that every single one of them is in place.

Another early migrant: Whooping Cranes

U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service photo of Whooping Cranes

You can add yet another species to the list of birds that are heading north earlier than usual this year. The endangered Whooping Cranes are leaving their winter home on the Texas coast at least a month earlier than usual. Some of the birds have already made their way as far north as South Dakota, on their way to their summer home in Canada.

It was an unusual winter all way around for the cranes. First, the flock that arrived in Texas was larger than it had been in the memory of living observers. Second, when they got here, they found a landscape, including their habitat, that had been devastated by drought and wildfires. That was a bad combination that did not bode well for a successful winter, but the cranes proved themselves adaptable. They responded by expanding their ranges to areas where they had not been seen before in winter. Mostly, they moved out into areas adjoining their usual ranges at Aransas Wildlife Refuge, but nine of the big birds - six adults and three chicks - even spent the winter in Central Texas near Granger Lake!

This winter's experience of the cranes is just more evidence for my theory about why birds are among the most successful animals on earth: They are adaptable. Even more importantly, they can fly. If things are not working out for them in one location, they move on in search of a more amenable spot. And they can readily respond to changing climate conditions.

So, now we've heard from the smallest North American birds, the hummingbirds, and the largest, the cranes, both of which started their migration earlier than usual this year. Moreover, birds up and down the size spectrum in between those two extremes are also on the move. It will be interesting to see what effects this might have on the breeding season, as well as whether this represents a new trend in migration.  

Swiftly they fly

The Chimney Swifts are back in town. As I was working in my front yard this afternoon, I heard their distinctive twittering and looked up to see two of the small black cigar-shaped birds barreling around the sky over my yard.

I had been expecting them and was on the lookout for them. They normally arrive in my yard about the same time as the Ruby-throated Hummingbirds, around the first week in April. This year, of course, the hummingbirds were early, arriving a couple of weeks ago. It stood to reason that the swifts might be early, too, and indeed they are, at least by about a week.

The swifts truly are one of my favorite summer visitors. I love their voices. I love their hyperactivity, the way they are always on the move and they have only one speed - fast!

They usually nest in the chimney of my living room fireplace and I expect they will do so again this year.

I went to the website Chimney Swifts.org to report my first sighting. I hope you will, too, when you see swifts in your area.

A Ruby-throat checks in

I've been expecting it for days and today it finally happened. The first male Ruby-throated Hummingbird turned up in my backyard.

Okay, I cannot tell a lie. This is not actually the bird I saw today but a visitor from last year. I didn't have a camera in my hand when I saw the bird today. But he looked just like this!

I was on one of my frequent breaks from pruning the thorny hedge along my back fence, and, seated in my favorite chair, I was gazing at my little redbud tree that is in full bloom just now, when the little bird darted in to visit the feeder hanging from one of the tree's limbs. He took a good long drink and then flew away to a limb to preen. After a bit, he came back for seconds. While he was visiting that feeder, I noticed that the Rufous Hummingbird that has spent the winter here was visiting her favorite feeder which is hung next to a crape myrtle tree about 25 feet away from the redbud. I didn't witness any hummingbird disputes while I was watching. Each bird seemed content with its own feeder. Since I have confirmation that the Ruby-throats have arrived now, I may hang my third feeder in the front yard.

I checked the migration map for the Ruby-throats and saw that there are sightings reported in six southern states now. I also checked back over my own eBird records, because I couldn't remember ever having seen a Ruby-throat quite this early. Sure enough - March 13 is my earliest yard record for the bird. My previous earliest record was March 17, 2006.

Just passing through

Slogging through the swamp that is my backyard this afternoon, after almost three inches of rain over the weekend, I sensed movement on the trunk of my magnolia tree and looked to see a small brown bird with a slightly curved bill making its way up the tree, looking for insects. It has been a while since I've seen one of these birds in my yard, but I recognized it immediately. It was a Brown Creeper.

The creeper is a winter visitor here. I have sometimes seen them in my yard in the fall, but I've never recorded one at this time of year. That doesn't mean they haven't been here. This is a very cryptically-colored bird which can be totally inconspicuous against the bark of a tree where it is usually found. In its coloration and the shape of its beak, it might be mistaken for a wren, but on second look, you would never make that error. The posture of the two birds is entirely different. Wrens are very perky birds, quick in their movements, and they most often carry their tails pointed jauntily toward the sky. Creepers, on the other hand, carry their long tails on a plane with their bodies, very much as woodpeckers do, and, in fact, they use them the same way that woodpeckers do, to brace their bodies as they creep up the trunks of trees.

This little bird has a very thin and high-pitched song appropriate to its size. It reminds me a lot of another tiny bird that is visiting just now, the Blue-gray Gnatcatcher. It also sounds a bit like one of the kinglets and might be mistaken for them if you couldn't get a good look at the bird.

The Brown Creeper is normally a solitary bird, but like many of the other small birds, in winter it will sometimes travel in flocks with chickadees, kinglets, and titmice. The one that I saw today, though, was on its own.

It's likely that my visitor is just passing through on its way north. These birds nest along the far northern tier of states and up into Canada, as well as along the West Coast. Spring has come early this year and the migrants seem to be moving on quickly as they hurry to get to their breeding grounds, so I may not see this bird again. Still, I'm very glad that I got a glimpse of it. It brightened what had otherwise been a rather gloomy and soggy outlook around the old backyard today.

Another reason to remember September

All was quiet in my yard late this afternoon.  The sun had dipped almost behind the line of trees to the west of the backyard.  In a few parts of the yard, its rays still touched trees or shrubs.

The birds were quiet.  I was watching the flight of the Chimney Swifts overhead and idly attending to the constant battle of the hummingbirds.  There were at least three chasing each other about.  The cardinals were at the feeders enjoying their bedtime snacks and the mockingbirds were still patrolling the yard.  I was taking it all in and reflecting on the fact that I had not seen any White-winged Doves in the yard in more than a week.  Periodically through the year, these doves abandon my yard and this seems to be one of those periods.  All was normal for a late afternoon in autumn and I wasn't expecting to see anything unusual.  And then, I did!

From the shrubbery along the fence, I heard an unfamiliar "chuck."   It was only unfamiliar in the sense that I don't usually hear it in my yard, but I thought I knew what it was.  I started looking for the source of the sound, scanning the shrubs with my binoculars.  And suddenly, there it was - big as life and twice as beautiful. A Brown Thrasher.

Now, Brown Thrashers are high on my list of favorite birds and I'm always hoping to see them in my yard, but I almost never do.  They only ever visit me during migration and not often then.  It had been a couple of years since I had seen one here and that was during spring migration.  But there he was sitting among my shrubbery with a huge insect - apparently a cicada - in his beak.

I knew that if I went inside for the camera he would disappear, but when he dropped down to the ground to consume his meal, I had to try.  I ran for the camera and came back outside and tried to locate him again.  I finally did.  He was in the shrubs again but mostly hidden by limbs.  I couldn't get a clear shot at him with the camera and the light was fading fast.  I had to acknowledge defeat, but then defeat and I are old acquaintances when it comes to trying to photograph birds.

His visit just reinforced for me what a remarkable month this has been in my backyard.  In addition to my usual birds, I've had a Rufous Hummingbird, a (probable) Black-chinned Hummingbird, Yellow-breasted Chats, Baltimore Orioles, just to name a few of the standouts.  And now at the very end of the month, almost at the last hour of daylight, I get a Brown Thrasher!  Sometimes the life of a Backyard Birder is very good indeed.

The deadliest season

Migration seasons, spring and fall, are among the most deadly times of year for songbirds.  Many of these birds fly thousands of miles through territory they've never been in before, guided only by their instincts and the earth's magnetism.  They face the hazards of predators and finding sufficient food to keep them going and finding shelter from harsh weather.  For many if not most, however, the most serious hazards they will face will be barriers erected by humans.  Although the structures were not intended as barriers, to a migrating bird, flying mostly at night, that is exactly what the huge glass skyscrapers that are a feature of so many cities are.


It is estimated that 90,000 migrating birds are killed each year by flying into buildings in New York City alone.  Nobody knows for sure, of course, and the total could be much higher.  The nation-wide death toll is projected at about a billion birds, but, again, that estimate may be on the low side.  What is known for sure is that this represents a true avian holocaust.


Conservationists, concerned architects and city officials are trying to find solutions that will at least ameliorate the problem.  Around the country, several cities' Planning Commissions, such as San Francisco, are adopting bird-friendly ordinances in their rules for new buildings and remodeling projects.  In Washington, legislation is pending that would make federal buildings incorporate bird-friendly designs.  In addition, some manufacturers are exploring glass designs that use ultraviolet signals visible only to birds.  Such initiatives are still in their infancy but do hold some promise for the future.   For the present, though, opaque or translucent films, decals, dot patterns, shades, mesh screens — even nets — are the main options available to architects, designers, and home owners, and, admittedly, these are not very attractive alternatives.  Perhaps they are more attractive than a yard full of dead birds, though.


What makes the problem even worse is the lights that are often left on through the night in these glass buildings.  They disorient the birds and lead them straight into the sides of the buildings with deadly results.  Many buildings in New York now participate in a project called Lights Out New York which simply means they turn their lights off at night.  Other big cities like Toronto, Boston, and Chicago have similar lights out programs and these are proving effective.


The National Audubon Society and other bird conservation groups are making this a priority in their advocacy for birds, and it is gratifying to see that cities are responding positively.   It is believed by most ornithologists that birds' deaths from crashing into buildings are second only to habitat loss as a threat to the survival of birds as a species.  It is noteworthy that both hazards - destruction of habitat through development and glass buildings as barriers - are human-made.  The greatest threat to avian survival is humans.  

Birds migrate at night

'Tis September, the season of migration, a magical time that has often inspired poets.

Today, I came across this poem by Jan Haag and I decided to share it with you, because it is true.  Birds do migrate at night, and if you go outside at night and are quiet and listen, you may hear them by the thousands passing over your head.  On moonlit nights, you may even see them or see their silhouettes against the moon.  Twice a year, spring and autumn, on fragile but powerful wings, they make this trip, through the night, while the world sleeps.

       BIRDS MIGRATE AT NIGHT

                               by Jan Haag

Birds migrate at night. Be quiet, listen carefully: you can hear the lift and fall of the wings, two notes of a song, you can see the black images bisect the retina of the moon, you can guess their pattern, their flight their destination far away to the south in winter, north in spring. You can hear the lift and fall of the wings, the single cry of a mate, millions of birds flying through darkness over the sea and the land in silence, through the sleep of other creatures. You can guess their pattern, their flight: formations of birds in the night, covering the sky with the grid of their wings making the stars blink -- intermittent. Millions of birds flying through as you stand on the shore in the night over the glittering, rattled ladders of shale hearing their wings and their flight. You are used to rain-pattered roofs, the drumming, as abundant and isolated as tears in the night. You can guess their pattern, their flight. But the birds fly in silence, swift as the wind, invisible to the casual eye. Over the glittering, rattled ladders of shale the birds cross, tangential to the sea at night. Hour upon hour you can sense the undulation of wings. If you lift your cheek quite carefully you can feel the kiss and the wisp of air stirred by the inaudible glide. You can guess their pattern, their flight, and, once or twice in the night, sense the splash of a songbird's spent body caught in the sea's phosphorescence.

Rider of the storm

The Whimbrel is a medium-sized eastern shorebird that looks somewhat like the Long-billed Curlew that is a visitor to the Gulf Coast.  The Whimbrel nests and summers in the far northern reaches of the North American continent and then migrates along the eastern seaboard in late summer and fall, heading south to its winter home. The bird's migration often occurs at the height of the Atlantic hurricane season and this can be a challenge for a bird with a wingspan of 32 inches that weighs only 14 oz.  Often the birds perish in these storms.

These birds are good candidates for the radio transmitters that conservationists like to attach to birds to track their migrations.  During the past week, while Hurricane Irene was roaring her way up the eastern coast, scientists at The Center for Conservation Biology were anxiously tracking some of the birds to whom they had attached transmitters who had started their migration already.  In particular, they were tracking a bird they had named Chinquapin who appeared to by flying straight into the path of the huge storm.  There were some long anxious moments, but by Saturday, they were able to confirm that the bird had made it through and had apparently safely landed on Eleuthera Island in the Bahamas.

Whimbrel wearing transmitter.   Photo by Barry Switt of The Nature Conservancy.

It's hard to imagine how an animal of that size could make it safely through such winds and yet even smaller birds do manage to survive them, as well. Migration is a perilous time for birds, for many reasons, including the challenges of weather, finding sufficient food, avoiding predators, and, of course, for birds that migrate over land, there are those tall buildings, power lines, and wind farms to negotiate.  It's heartening to read of one such bird who has met the challenges so far.  After he rests and feeds for awhile in the Bahamas, Chinquapin may continue on as far as the southern coast of South America before he settles down for the winter.  Let us hope that for the rest of his journey, however long it might be, this rider of the storm has clear skies and balmy breezes.