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Don & Lillian's Birding Journal
| May 7, 2001 — Songster of the Woods |
The other day we were in Chevy Chase, Maryland leading a bird walk through a lovely patch of old woods when a rich melodious song flowed out of the woodland understory. This was answered by another similar song that seemed to fill the woodlands to the top of the canopy with sound.
These were, of course, Wood Thrushes—one of our most accomplished songsters. It is hard to adequately describe the beauty of the Wood Thrush’s song. Certainly the words flute-like and lilting must be used. But there are other qualities of phrasing and cadence that are hard to put into words.
We looked for the birds and saw two near each other; they were most likely male and female since, if they had been two males, one would have been chasing the other out of its territory at this time of year. One of the pair flew up to a small tree in front of us and resumed its singing. It was astounding to hear the song so close and we were almost bowled over with its beauty.
Both male and female Wood Thrushes can song. The male does most of the singing during territory formation and courtship. The female’s version of song is shorter and given mostly when there is a disturbance near the nest.
When the bird faced us, we noticed how its breast was spread out laterally, highlighting the many spots on its front. This is actually a Wood Thrush visual display, called Spread, given by males or females during heightened territorial interactions.
Before hearing song at this location, we had heard the Bweebweeb-Call that sounds like “bweebweebweebweebweeb”. This call is also given during aggressive interactions involving territory.
When we listened to the song in front of us, it went through our minds that it would be so exciting to have Wood Thrushes in our own woods, for they have been absent in recent years. Wood Thrush populations have been declining over the past 30 years, most likely due to human destruction of their deep woods habitats.
We flew home that night, and the next morning we awoke to the sound of two Wood Thrushes singing back and forth in our own woods. We are thrilled they are back and, of course, want them to stay and raise their young. We hope they can adjust to the smaller pockets of deep woods habitat in our neighborhood and that we can keep our yard a healthy place for them to live.
| April 9, 2001 — Great Horned Owls |
 | Female Great Horned
Owl and fledglings |
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For the last month we have had two fledgling Great Horned Owls and their parents spending the daytime in our backyard. We first saw them in late February as large nestlings and then noticed them away from the nest in mid-March. If we count back, we can know when they started breeding. The nestling phase is 6-8 weeks, so they must have hatched in mid-January. Incubation takes a month, so they must have started laying eggs in mid-December.
One of the most fascinating parts of their fledgling life is the sounds of the adults and young. Just as night falls, the female begins to call with a strange sound much like the bleating of a goat. It is given repeatedly about every 30 seconds. The calls of the young are entirely different; they are drawn-out harsh hissing sounds and are given about as frequently as those of the female. What we believe is the male just gives the normal Great Horned Owl hooting, like “Hoo hoohoo hoohoo hoo.”
Why all these different calls? And why did they start right at the beginning of the fledgling stage when the young are out of the nest? Think for a moment from the owl’s perspective. Chances are that the male is going out to get food for the female and fledglings, as is the case for most of our hawks and owls. Since the female and two young are out of the nest, the male will not know exactly where they are when he returns.
His hoots probably warn her that he is about to approach. Her calls help him locate her in the dark. And the calls of the young help the female keep track of them as they move about and explore on their own, but still want a free meal from mom.
We have had a great time listening to them in the evenings and keeping track of their movements and behavior through their calls. Our one regret is that we used to have a rookery of Yellow-crowned Night-Herons in our backyard, but they did not come this year. This is probably because the Great Horned Owls could prey on the herons and their young, so the herons moved elsewhere, at least for this year. Meanwhile we've had this special look at the life of the owls.
 | | Herring Gull |
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Recently, while birding along the beach with friends we came across a flock of Herring Gulls in various ages. The birds were standing on the shore with more birds flying in to join them. We paused to look more closely at these familiar gulls. Some people might consider this a bit dull, but we ended up having a great time and, in the end, could not get our fill of these common birds.
Herring Gulls take four years to reach adult plumage. In their first two years, their overall impression is one of a large, mostly streaked brown gull. In the second year, they have gray on their back and occasionally some gray on the coverts of their wings. But what we looked at were their upper tail and undertail coverts--the smaller feathers that cover the base of the larger tail feathers on top and beneath.
This was an area you could see best when they were flying. In first-year birds, these feathers are strongly barred with brown; but in second-year birds, they are strikingly white and contrast with the birds all dark brown tail. We found that, using these clues, we could recognize first- and second-year Herring Gulls from quite a distance as they flew in. We were having so much fun looking for this that we wished more Herring Gulls would fly by.
We took a moment to marvel at our situation. In most cases, a Herring Gull is such a common bird that no one wishes for more. But because we were looking so closely at a new portion of a familiar bird, we were seeing the whole bird anew.
We have a quote over our desk from Marcel Proust: “The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.” Birding with friends on the beach we all experienced new eyes with Herring Gulls and it was tremendously exciting.
| February 3, 2001 — Getting in Shape |
 | | Yellow-Rumped Warbler |
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While looking at birds on Sanibel Island, Florida this winter, we have been studying the shape of birds. The more we do this the more important we feel shape is to identification. Knowing shape can help you identify a species by a fleeting glance, a look at a silhouette, or just a view of part of a bird's body.
For example, there are about seven species of warblers that commonly winter on the island. Among these are the Yellow-throated, Yellow-rumped, and Parula Warblers. Although these warblers are fairly easy to tell apart in winter, it is fascinating to look at their comparative shapes.
The Northern Parula Warbler is a very small, stocky warbler with a very short tail. The Yellow-throated Warbler, one of our favorites down here, is a much larger but sleeker bird with a very long bill for a warbler. And the Yellow-rumped Warbler, in terms of shape, is sort of average for warblers.
But how do you see shape? It is actually harder than you might think. As we have worked on this, we find it is not something the human brain seems to do automatically. We are distracted by color, shading, and three-dimensionality. We find it can be good to sort of talk through what you see. For example, we might say something like this: “The head looks rather small in proportion to the body, the neck is very short, the bird looks sort of pot-bellied, and the tail does not project much past the tips of the wings.” Sometimes we try to think of having to draw the bird later and at other times we actually try to sketch it on the spot.
Recently, shape helped us recognize a fairly rare bird for our island. We had been looking closely at the shapes of different gulls on the beach, including Ring-billed, Laughing, Herring, and Great Black-backed. Then, while walking on the beach at the end of the day, we saw a gull that looked in colors much like a first-winter Great Black-backed Gull, but its shape was different.
Great Black-backed Gulls are very thick through the belly, have a relatively short tail, and their body tapers abruptly to the tip of the tail. But this bird was sleek, with more delicate features, and its body tapered gradually to the tail. It was a first-winter Lesser Black-backed Gull. In the end, we used color and shape to help us identify the bird, but it was the shape and our previous looking at common gulls that helped us pick out this unusual species.
| January 1, 2001 — Odd Couples |
 | | Willet |
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We are in Sanibel, Florida, for the winter months and trying to do as much looking at birds as our work day permits. Recently we have been interested in the associations between birds where two different species hang out together to the benefit of one and to the detriment to neither. These are sometimes referred to as commensal relationships. Here are two examples both involving herons.
We have watched Red-breasted Mergansers feeding in the shallow water chasing fish. When they do this, we often see a host of herons flying in and taking advantage of the small fish that are scared up by the Mergansers. The herons, such as Snowy Egrets, Reddish Egrets, and Little Blue Herons run after the Cormorants and strike out at the darting fish. At times, the herons actually become aggressive to each other as they temporarily defend their area around a Merganser.
In another example, we have noticed Snowy Egrets following White Ibis as the Ibis feed. There is usually only one Snowy per Ibis. The Ibis feeds by repeatedly probing its long down curved bill into the water and feeling for crabs and small fish. The Snowy Egret feeds by looking for small fish and seems to follow the Ibis to get the small fish that its probing stirs up. It is fun to see these pairs, one with its head down feeling the other with its head up looking.
We have another pair of birds that we have discovered along the beach, but their relationship is still a bit of a mystery to us. The pairs consist of a Willet and a Black-bellied Plover. The Willets seem to space themselves out evenly along the beach, about 50 yards apart, and there always seems to be a Black-bellied Plover within about 8 feet of each one. It is uncanny how often we see these pairs and as yet we have no idea why they are associated. Whether it is for feeding or protection or some other even more interesting association, we do not know.
Some friends of ours have suggested that each of us stake out a pair of these birds and watch them for an hour and then get together to see what we have learned. It is a wonderful mystery and one that we look forward to exploring and solving.
| December 5, 2000 — A Winter Walk |
 | | Red Fox |
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 | Cedar
Waxwing |
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This morning we took a walk with our dog, Daisy, after the first snowfall of the year to look at the beauty of nature and search for birds. There was only an inch of snow but it was composed entirely of stellar crystals, the ones that are star shaped, and as we moved the morning sun reflected a rainbow of colors off each tiny surface. The ground seemed strewn with diamonds.
An inch of snow can be great for looking at animal tracks. We saw a neat single line of oval prints, each about sixteen inches apart, artfully follow the edge of the path, then crossing over the field. They were from a Red Fox. We tried to picture what its russet color must have looked like among the beige grasses of the field. Cute little pairs of galloping prints made trails from tree to tree and were clearly those of Gray Squirrels. A cat had been out already as well; its tracks form a careful single line, much like the fox, but the prints are round and only about 12 inches apart.
We heard some robins calling in the distance and a Northern Flicker did its gently looping flight overhead. These are two species that generally fly farther south for the winter but may delay their journey if there is still enough food available. Crabapples seem abundant this year and may help these species stay longer.
Around the base of a Red Cedar were tiny bird tracks in the snow and the bluish fallen cedar berries from the tree. The fruits had been pecked open by some birds that were more interested in the seeds than the pulp. We saw a White-throated Sparrow in the tree, but chickadees and titmice also do this.
As we walked back, Cedar Waxwings gave their high-pitched whistles and a small formation of Mallards flew silently and speedily to some open water in the nearby river.
The morning was a reminder to us of all the beauty in nature and how much our lives are enriched and fulfilled by just looking at and appreciating it.
| November 7, 2000 — Fall Visitors |
There is a large, graceful, flowering Dogwood tree right outside our office window. It produces hundreds of bright red berries in fall which, in turn, are fed on by hundreds of birds. Robins, Bluebirds, Thrushes, Jays, and Flickers have been stripping the fruits by the hour. But the other day we had some more unusual visitors.
All of a sudden, a flock of seventeen Rusty Blackbirds showed up in the yard. At first, they ate what was left of the Dogwood berries; then they moved to the lawn where they seemed to be looking for grubs and other insect life among the grasses.
Rusty Blackbirds breed mostly in Canada and Alaska, and we see them only as they pass through to their wintering grounds in central and eastern United States. For reasons that are still unknown, the populations of Rusty Blackbirds have been dropping extremely fast - over 2% per year over the last twenty-five years.
We first saw Rusty Blackbirds on our property two years ago. Just four birds came and ate from the same Dogwood tree at the same time of year. Last year, they again visited, but at that time there were six or seven birds. This year we have seventeen.
What may be happening is that the first group of birds brought either young or other adult birds with them the second year. This is possible because migrating birds typically revisit key feeding spots along their route, places where they know they can count on finding food. Younger birds may also have a tendency to follow older birds on the route to learn about these important sources of food.
We do not interpret our growing numbers of fall visitors as an indication that Rusty Blackbird populations are now rising, but rather as a sign that we have provided a good migratory food stop to help a fascinating bird whose populations are otherwise in trouble.
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October 3, 2000 — Fall Pilgrimage |
Each year, somewhere between the 13th and 17th of September, we spend a couple of days on top of a mountain in central Massachusetts called Mount Wachusett. We go there at that time because this is typically when the largest flights of Broad-winged Hawks migrate south over Wachusett and other nearby mountains.
We know that when we arrive on the mountain top there will be a number of our friends, people we have been hawkwatching with for the past 20 years. None of us have had to call each other to plan or coordinate this meeting. We are all there on the same days because we have all been looking for the same weather conditions in which the hawks are most likely to move. There is no surprise or question in any of our minds when we see each other there. We all know what it is all about.
The days that the hawks move are generally the two days on either side of September 15th during which these conditions occur: a new high-pressure front coming into the area from Canada; northwest-to-northeast winds not more than 15 miles per hour; clear to partly cloudy days; a cool previous night; and daytime temperatures of 55 to 75 degrees Fahrenheit. And it is best when all of this happens after a few days of cloudy, lousy weather.
The north winds help the birds move south. The 15 mph winds are helpful to the birds but do not blow the tops off the rising thermals of warm air that lift the hawks in altitude. The clear to partly cloudy days mean that the sunlight can reach the ground for long enough to warm the earth and create thermals. And the cooler nights and generally cool days also help thermal formation by creating a better difference between the air warmed by the sun and the normal air temperature. The bad weather the days before may have the effect of bunching the hawks together farther north so that we see more at once.
People ask whether Broad-winged Hawks migrate together. The answer is that they do, but only in the same way that we hawkwatch together with our friends. The birds do not communicate or join forces. Each is following its own instinctive response to the weather and time of year, and this response is so finely tuned that they do indeed end up migrating together.
We are sure that they are no more surprised to see other hawks in the air on these days than we are to see other hawkwatchers on the mountain. After an initial greeting they probably just go about their business.
The amazing thing, which is almost spiritual in nature, is that this little group of people has gathered on the mountain, and the hawks see us, sometimes thousands of feet below them, celebrating their incredible journey—a journey so much more momentous than any journey in our own lives that it leaves us, each year, in awe.
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September 2, 2000 — Iridescence |
 | Rufous
Hummingbird male |
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The iridescent throat or gorget of male hummingbirds only rarely shows its full colors, while the majority of the time it appears dull black. We repeatedly saw this in August in southeastern Arizona, where we visited recently. In contrast, the iridescence on the rest of their bodies always shines green.
There is a structural reason for this. On the gorget of the males, only the outer third of each feather is iridescent. The iridescence is created by layers of minute structures called platelets that are filled, tiny air bubbles. These partially reflect back the light, creating the brilliant reds, purples, and blues. The iridescent portions of the gorget feathers are flat and reflect light in only one direction. This is why, in order to look brilliant, the feathers have to be facing just the right way in relation to the sun. On the other hand, the iridescent portions of the green body feathers on male and female hummingbirds are concave and reflect light back from any direction. This is why they always appear a sparkling green.
Why the difference? One would have to guess that the male's gorget is designed for specific communications with the female and with other males, and that its signal function is reserved for special moments such as courtship and aggression. Its flashy colors at other times could be a liability, since it might attract the attention of potential predators.
It is interesting that this iridescence is so attractive to us. It is breathtaking in its brilliance. Most mammals are color blind and cannot see this color, but most primates can. It certainly made us glad that we could see color when we were in Arizona watching hundreds of hummers at a time.
Why is it so exciting to us? Is there a reason, or is it just an incredibly lucky happenstance of the process of evolution? Is there any survival value to our being thrilled by the throat of a hummingbird? Maybe not scientifically, but maybe magically. We certainly feel a magical thrill every time a hummingbird delights us with a close-up view. And if pressed, we would have to admit that we feel as though the more hummingbird iridescence we experience, the more extended and fulfilled our lives become.
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August 1, 2000 — Clueless in August |
 | Juvenile Common
Grackles |
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August is a time for cluelessness—there is no better word for the behavior of fledgling birds. Recently we watched several fledgling Common Grackles as they crowded after a parent who was searching for food to give them. The young were flat black with dark eyes, lacking the stunning iridescence and yellow eyes of the adults. The parent, not finding any food, suddenly took off, leaving the young slightly startled and too flustered to follow. They remained behind wandering aimlessly about at the edge of the lawn.
One fledgling picked up the empty shell of an acorn, eagerly adjusting it in its bill as if it were a prize item of food. At one point we were afraid it might try to swallow the dry remains, but before it had a chance, a sibling lunged over and stole the shell. We watched as the sibling carried the shell proudly off to a protected spot where perhaps it thought it could dine in peace. The shell was picked up, dropped, pecked, turned over, examined for signs of life, and even thrown in the air. We don't think the fledgling ever realized the shell was not food; it just got distracted by a nearby dead leaf.
Young birds do not seem to have an instinctive knowledge of what is food and what is not; they have to learn. As we thought about this system, we could begin to see its advantages. How could you ever hard-wire into the brain all of the possible food items? It would be far better for fledglings to be exploratory and opportunistic than rigid and programmed in their searching. This is especially true for grackles, who are generalists and who can potentially eat a wide variety of foods.
It is amazing how much these fledglings will have to learn. Clearly, by following their parents, they can begin to see where food is found and even begin to recognize some appropriate items. But just as important is having some time on their own to peck randomly about and maybe even get a little hungry.
Last year, we watched a young Yellow-crowned Night-Heron perched on a suspended piece of rope, pecking at it to see if it was perhaps food. The bird was clueless, as we all are at first. The fledgling stage is both a time to be shown and a time to explore on your own. This is what being a fledgling is all about.
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July 7, 2000 — A Blessed Event |
 | | Fairy Rose |
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 | | Song Sparrow |
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At the end of the day, we often sit in our gazebo in the middle of our garden, sometimes with a little wine, cheese, and vegetables. Recently, while enjoying the afternoon sun illuminating the blue of our large patches of catmint, we saw a Song Sparrow fly from one of our favorite roses right by the gazebo. We took note and then a few minutes later saw another Song Sparrow (or the same one) come to the rose with food in its bill. When it disappeared among the blossoms and then reappeared without food we were thrilled, because we knew the birds had a nest.
The rose is one of our favorites in our garden. It is a small shrub rose called The Fairy. Ours is about four feet across and three feet high and just covered with romantic light pink blossoms; it blooms all summer and into fall. We have it placed next to a low spreading plant called Lamb's Ears, whose leaves are woolly and silver and a lovely contrast with the blossoms of The Fairy.
We carefully checked among the flowers of the rose and could just see the Song Sparrows' nest cradled among some branches inside the bush. In the neat cup-like nest, made all of grasses, we could see four tiny heads. It was adorable and we quickly left them alone so that the parents could continue feeding their nestlings.
This discovery amazed us for many reasons. One was how we missed all of the activities up to this point in a location where we sit and work every day. Adding to our amazement was that the Song Sparrows nested so close to us and our activity. Even as we sat in our gazebo the parents looked for food within a few feet of us and continued to feed their babies as if we were not even there.
And finally we were amazed and equally pleased at their choice of nesting site. It is one of the most beautiful plants in our garden and we had fun imagining being baby Song Sparrows growing up in the middle of all of those pink blossoms. What it is like as they wake in the morning and the first rays of the sun bounce off the pink rose petals all around them? What a magical place to grow up.
And when they are adults and choose a nesting spot for their own young, will they look for a bush of The Fairy rose in which to nest? We wondered.
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June 7, 2000 — Twice Over Deeply |
 | Blue-gray
Gnatcatcher nest |
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Most mornings, we take a walk with our dog Daisy, a Pembroke Welsh Corgi who is always ready to go out for an adventure with her "pack" (us). We usually take much the same route each time, a lovely wide path that goes through a nearby historic area with fields, a river, woods, and gardens.
A famous naturalist, William Burroughs, once said that if you want to learn something new about nature, take the same path you did yesterday. There are many reasons for this being true.
One might be called the "daily phenomenon." It seems that every day there is something spectacular happening in nature in your area. It may be a wildflower coming into bloom, a swarm of insects over the water, frog calls from the woods, dew on a spider web, or the discovery of baby birds—all you have to do is spend enough time outdoors to encounter it and have your eyes open to see it.
Another reason you can learn something new from the same path is that nature is always changing and developing. Every day, everything in nature has changed a little bit, and in some cases, things have changed a lot. Plants emerge from the ground, flowers change to fruits, birds go through their nesting cycle, butterflies increase in numbers, new fragrances are released into the air, and all colors change.
And the third reason might be called the "twice over deeply" principle. Instead of "once over lightly," you can begin to absorb nature on a more long-term basis. This is what we and Daisy do each morning. Each day we absorb a little more about the path we take and it begins to accumulate into surprising discoveries. For example, in one area of the woods we first noticed a Blue-gray Gnatcatcher giving its buzzy call. A few days later, in the same area we saw two Gnatcatchers together and could see that one was a male and the other a female. And a week later we heard a lot of excited buzzy calling from the same area and, as we looked up, discovered the female settling down over a beautiful lichen-covered nest about 30 feet above us. It was only by our repeated encounters with the birds that we built up a familiarity with their activities, which in turn led to the discovery of their nest and now a chance to see them raise their young.
This happens to us all the time on our morning walk and it continues to give us special glimpses into the lives of birds and the rest of nature. Taking the same path repeatedly very much suits our way of looking at nature and our desire to know it more intimately. It reveals the daily changes, the special occurrences, and the evolving behavior. Be sure to try "twice over deeply" in your experience with nature.
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May 1, 2000 — A Visiting Traveller |
 | | Painted Bunting, male |
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In winter we live on a small barrier island off the west coast of Florida, and for the past few weeks we have regularly visited a small park at the tip of the island to look for migrating birds. We look for warblers, orioles, tanagers, and buntings mostly. These species are sometimes called neotropical migrants because they winter in Central and South America and migrate into North America in spring.
The birds we see on our barrier island are called trans-gulf migrants because they migrate over water. They usually take off from the Yucatan, fly across the Gulf of Mexico, and land on the coast of Florida. Other neotropical migrants are called circum-gulf migrants because they stay over land and move north along the gulf coast of Texas.
One of these travellers—who is also one of America's most striking birds—stopped at our feeder on its way north. The visitor at our feeder was a male Painted Bunting, a bird whose staggering coloration never ceases to amaze us. Shocking patches of blue, green, red, and yellow seemingly whimsically placed on their bodies. Quite simply, it is a bird that makes your jaw drop.
We first saw it in the afternoon. It came to our tray feeder that is mounted on a pole and ate almost exclusively white millet. It would eat for about a minute and then fly off into the red mangroves at the edge of our yard. Then it would return about 20 minutes later and feed again. It did not seem bothered by the larger Boat-tailed Grackles and Mourning Doves on the tray feeder. We got our cameras out and took some good pictures of it.
The weather was clear that evening but turned bad in the middle of the night, with thunderstorms, lightening, and about an inch of rain. The next day there was no sign of the bird. Our best guess is that it had gotten enough food at our feeder to continue on its journey north that evening. The birds usually start migration about an hour after sunset. It probably flew for just a few hours and then stopped down when the storms came.
We marveled at how this tiny bird really did move. Here today, gone tomorrow. But what we were particularly pleased about was providing our colorful little traveler with a comfortable rest stop and added fuel to carry it on its journey. We hope it remembers us for next year's migration and stops by for rest, food, and drink. We'll keep the feeders filled.
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April 5, 2000 — Florida Night Sounds |
The other evening, we sat down together in the sofa on our porch that overlooks our small backyard in Florida, lit a candle, and listened to the sounds of nature as dusk settled in. It was pleasantly warm, crickets were calling, but we were most interested in the sounds coming from the several pairs of Yellow-crowned Night-Herons that nest over the small river at the edge of our backyard.
We bought our house because of the Night-Herons. When we first walked into the backyard to look at the house we saw two; the next visit five; and the last eight. That clinched it! We were going to live here, even though we hadn't yet seen the house from the inside.
Now, as the darkness surrounded us, we were taking a moment to enjoy these wonderful birds. They were giving several sounds. One was a soft "woo" which we also hear throughout the day. It's a sound the birds give during courtship - spreading their wings and raising the breeding plumes on their head and back.
Another call we heard, reserved for this time of night, is their familiar loud "WOK," given as they move about in the evening and get ready to fly out to feed. This is why they are called Night-Herons - they feed at night. Every so often we caught a glimpse of one of the birds as it left the rookery and flew through the mangroves.
As the Night-Herons left, we quietly talked about how much we love living near birds and what a privilege it is to experience these parts of their lives. It was now all dark except for our single candle. Finally, we went inside, turned on the lights, and made some dinner.
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March 6, 2000 — Serendipity |
Recently, we went to visit some friends in central Florida to see the Indigo and Painted Buntings they had coming to their feeders. It was the same place we showed on the first episode of the series. When we arrived we heard a familiar call like "chbit chbit chbit". We knew that it was the call of a Summer Tanager, a bird that does not commonly winter in Florida. We all ran to the backyard in time to see a beautiful male in all his red splendor perched at the top of a tall tree. It was flying out to catch insects.
While we were watching, another flash of color flew into the same spot—it was an adult female Baltimore Oriole; another bird we rarely see in Florida in winter, although it is known to winter there.
The Tanager dropped down into a lower a tree and one of our group spotted a warbler up by the Oriole. It was a Yellow-throated Warbler, arguably the most beautiful of winter warblers in Florida.
In turn, this bird was replaced by yet another spectacular bird with a yellow throat and yellow spectacles—a Yellow-throated Vireo. Again, a bird that can winter in Florida but is not often seen.
We were all amazed at this collection of birds, any one of which would have made our day. But all four at once! We began to reflect on this event and remembered other times when we had seen one unusual bird followed by several others. It seemed to be a phenomenon, although rare. Why does it happen?
We came up with three possible explanations. The first was a quote by Einstein: Chance favors the prepared mind. As birders, there is a part of our eyes and ears always listening; we are prepared for the unusual moment and take advantage of it.
The second explanation was that there was an ecological reason for these birds all being together. Were they a "guild" of birds—a group of diverse species that all use a similar eco-niche? All four are gleaners at times, moving among leaves to pick off insects to eat.
And finally, maybe this was just a mystical birder moment, something the birds reward us with for all of our hard looking and appreciation. Someone asked us which answer we thought was right.
What do you think?
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February 7, 2000 — From North to South |
We just made our way from Massachusetts to Florida, where we spend the winter. We left a variety of birds at our feeders. We had irruptive species from the North, such as Common Redpolls, Pine Siskins, and Red-breasted Nuthatches. We had some species that are extending their range up from the South, such as Carolina Wrens and Red-bellied Woodpeckers.
As we drove south we were amazed at how few birds we see along the highway, at least in winter. The most common species was Red-tailed Hawks sitting on dead trees along the side of the road, probably looking for voles in the short grass of the roadside. We often keep count of the number we see, it helps pass the time as we drive. Our first Turkey Vulture was seen in Virginia; we were still in a lot of snow from the recent storm and we wondered how this affects the vulture's ability to find carrion.
Great Blue Herons were wading in ditches along the side of the road in South Carolina, where the temperatures were still in the 20's. They looked a little cold and hungry.
Now we are here on the West coast of Florida. We put out our feeders, but it will take a while for the birds to find them again. We hear Red-shouldered Hawks and breeding Osprey calling each morning. Flocks of warblers, such as Yellow-rumped and Palm, pass through the trees. A Great Egret was feeding in the water behind our house and then walked across our lawn. Mourning Doves and Cardinals are just beginning to sing.
Being in Florida and thinking of the leafless trees and snow around our northern home, we marvel at how different a natural world you can be in with just three days of driving.
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