Birding Notes

After several days of unseasonably warm temperatures, it was cold again this morning, in the 20s, but sunny and bright. As I watched some White-throated Sparrows feeding in the back yard near several shrubs, a Hermit Thrush suddenly emerged from beneath a holly bush, ran quickly across a patch of bare ground, then stopped and stood still, looking wide-eyed and watchful. With grayish-brown plumage and a dark-spotted breast, a Hermit Thrush is a quiet, solitary bird that’s only here in the winter, and that’s more likely to be seen on or near the ground than up high in a tree.

I was especially happy to see it because it’s the first one I’ve seen or heard this year around our house, and it’s one of my favorite winter birds to watch – at the same time reclusive and lively, like a shy person who shows a colorful personality only when he thinks no one is looking. This one, like most Hermit Thrushes I’ve seen in the winter, was alone, and its behavior was typical. Emerging abruptly from beneath a bush, running for a few feet, then stopping and standing still, head held up high, then running and stopping again, now and then raising its rufous tail quickly, and lowering it slowly. Then – startled by something – it dove back into the bushes.

A dark, gray, rainy day, very warm, with storms around. We were under a tornado watch for several hours, but heard no more than passing thunder here. The birds around our house have been active and seem to like the warm, soft rain. It’s strangely spring-like. Two White-throated Sparrows sat in the top branches of a tea olive bush with raindrops plopping onto their feathers.

Pine Warblers, a Red-bellied Woodpecker, Cardinals, Mourning Doves, Downy Woodpeckers and House Finches were active around our one hanging feeder. Eastern Towhees scratched in leaves on the ground, and Song Sparrows and Chipping Sparrows fed in the bushes. A Phoebe, a Mockingbird and a couple of Bluebirds hunted around the yard, and two Black Vultures floated low over the bare-limbed trees.

Another White-throated Sparrow wallowed in a puddle of rainwater at the edge of the sidewalk, sinking down into the puddle repeatedly and fluffing out its feathers, fluttering and shaking all over, apparently having a fine time – and chasing away other sparrows from its puddle.

On the first day of the new year, five Eastern Bluebirds sat in the bare branches of a tree in our front yard. The weather was cool and very windy, with gusts shaking the trees and rustling the dry brown leaves still clinging to white oaks. After a rainy, warm and foggy New Year’s Eve, the sky was gradually clearing and becoming blue and sunny, and temperatures were falling. Against the damp, drab background of winter shrubs and grass, the colorful Bluebirds looked like a preview of spring. Or maybe they could be seen as a good omen for the year ahead.

They flew in silently together, one female and four males, and sat widely spaced apart on the low branches of a pecan tree. They clung to the branches, their feathers rumpled by the strong, chilly wind. It rushed through pines and bare branches with great roars at times, and the Bluebirds swayed and rocked, keeping their balance as the branches trembled and bounced. Every now and then, in a lull, one would fly off to catch an insect in the air, or to snap up something from the grass, then return to its spot.

The Bluebirds remained quiet, but through the blowing wind, shaking leaves, and creaking branches, I could hear the small, sharp calls of Yellow-rumped Warblers, the chuck-chuck of a Red-bellied Woodpecker, the sibilant calls of White-throated Sparrows, the squeaky complaint of one Robin, a Ruby-crowned Kinglet’s stuttering chatter, and even the high, thin notes of a Golden-crowned Kinglet. Two Turkey Vultures tilted low over the cul de sac in front of our house, and disappeared over the line of trees in the woods beyond.